How Mulder & Scully got their injuries
by muldertxf
Summary: A fic that explains how Mulder and Scully injured themselves at work... Tried to make it sort of funny.


Skinner's sharp glare coiled deeply into Scully's conscious like an unforgiving lion. She felt herself crumble; a pathetic confetti of sweat erupted on her neck.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sir." Her right hand fumbled with the small tear in the stitching of her grey pencil skirt.

Skinner's back straightened in a frightening way-rigid like a lead pencil-as he rose from his tidy desk. He never once broke eye contact with the red head before him, leeching on her tension like a gross parasite. He didn't enjoy doing this. Actually, if he didn't act enraged, it would be _awkward_. He also knew that Scully would likely seize any moment of weakness and conquer the tension like the feisty, determined person he knew her to be out in the field. And speaking of "the field," he was up to bat now. He had to speak. It'd been too long.

The vampiric red head slowly rose from her seat, ready to suck the tension from the taller man. "Well, sir, do you care to tell me what you called me in for?" She asked this in the most stern tone she could muster. The anxiety that had plagued her earlier had already begun to wave its white flag; It stood no match against her. She lobbed a crutch to the floor with a _clunk_.

"I know what I saw, Agent Scully. Do _not_ bullshit me."

 _You're not Kersh_ , she wanted to clamor back to him. _You can't be scary like him. So don't even try_. She didn't express this, of course. Because in the deepest trenches of her mind, as much as she desired to wash away and repress the memory, it was still there, nagging her with the persistence of a house fly. Buzzing, avoiding certain death, and getting in her face everywhere she went this week. It was simply inescapable. She let out a deflated sigh, and hid under dark auburn eyelashes. "We were replacing the light fixture over Agent Mulder's desk."

Skinner rubbed the patch of flesh between his eyes hard, grumbling. Maybe he really _was_ annoyed. "You could have called a janitor. That's not the point, though," he grumbled, pacing back and forth with great effort. "Look, given you and Agent Mulder's...ah," He trailed off. "... _history_ ," He'd almost said chemistry. "I half expected this. Look, if you guys are going to do it like wild animals, who am I to care? _It's none of my damn business_. But don't do it somewhere someone innocent can walk in and see his colleagues um, committed in…"

 _Cunnilingus. That's what we were doing, Skinner._ A smile threatened to ruin her serious expression, but she held on for dear life. She almost liked seeing him at a loss for words. She had the upperhand here. Or rather, Mulder did. She further stifled the grin by barking at Skinner in empty defense. "I'm sorry for what you believe you witnessed, sir. I was simply standing on the table to elevate myself so that I could replace the flickering bulb." She conveniently left out an explanation as to why her pantyhose were neatly curled all snake-like next to Mulder's pencil holder. Or, _why Mulder had his hands up her tight skirt_. She chuckled in her mind. He was like a mechanic, working away at unseen parts under her hood. He was such an expert, rubbing her swollen folds, up and down, up and-

Skinner cleared his throat. "Two agents were harmed on government property. I saw how it happened. Now I can tell Kersh what it looked like, or maybe you can offer a better explanation. You're still not being clear. And why is Agent Mulder not here when I specifically requested both of you?" His hands quaked a tad as he wrung them behind his back.

Scully shoved her embarrassment down further, in an attempt to drown it. Honestly, it had been a wonder that Skinner had never walked in on this before. This was their ninth time having sex in the basement. Hey it was cold down there, they had to warm up somehow. This time was different, though. They'd really overdone it.

First, Scully had come in exhausted at 5 am, clearly not in the mood. _But surprise_! Mulder had bought the two of them coffee. Her face lit up in delight. For a while, they sipped nonchalantly in blissful silence. The only remarkable noises to comment on were the persistent pecking of chunky keyboard letters, and the occasional noisy sip of beverage from him. She looked over at him then, after a good 20 minutes of mindless work. And that's when it hit her-he shouldn't _just_ be fingering a file cabinet right now. She set down her drained paper cup with a loud _plunk_.

And so there they were, her writhing frame on top of his pulsing body. Then, against the filing cabinet, then finally, his desk. Her pale pantyhose flew off in a blur, floating to the desk. His fingerwork made her amazingly wet, and he was so rough. So rough, in fact, that it tore her skirt at the sides a little bit. The only thing that stopped them was when the basement illuminating them went black.

Mulder hesitated for a moment. It would look extremely suspicious if the light were off and they were both obviously down here. Or maybe it was just his paranoia teasing him. But nevertheless, he cracked open a drawer in his desk to retrieve a lightbulb. "Here, Scully, you stand on the desk, while I keep going. That way we don't break the mood," he had whispered to her softly.

 _I think you just did_ , she thought. Still, she shimmied onto his desk the best she could all the while gripping the lightbulb, and by "happenstance," kicked his name plate to the floor. Yeah, she still kind of wanted one. Sue her. She corkscrewed the goddamned bulb in, and in that moment must have unleashed a time warp of some sort. Because from that moment on, for the next two minutes, everything played in slow motion.

Light thirstily flooded the room in a deafening peach color. _Peach? Why on earth would Mulder own a lightbulb of that color_? Scully was forbidden from further pondering that thought, because just as her pupils had contracted to adjust to the light, they would dilate in horror. The door scraped against the floor, screeching like a banshee to them. Mulder kept going in spite, weaving his digits around her insides as if he were playing a harpsichord. Death was imminent. Skinner didn't have a face to her at that moment. He was just eyeballs.

And then...they both fell. Thanks to Fox Mulder's brilliant idea. In turn, she had broken her foot, he an arm.

"Agent Scully, are we clear?" Skinner snapped, promptly tearing her from the flashback.

She cleared her throat, as if she had been listening intently to what he had just told her for the past five minutes. "Yes sir. It won't happen again," She offered half-heartedly, plucking a discarded crutch from the ground, stone-faced.

"Then can you at least tell me…" Skinner trailed off quickly. He looked to his shoulder, then back at her, as if heeding advice from a wise cherub on his shoulder. "Can you tell me off-the-record, what convinced both of you that this was a good idea? And how?"

Scully smiled. "Must be an X-File."


End file.
